You Can Have The Mocha!
by slytherin-punk-rocker311
Summary: A little dream of mine-to be Alan Rickman's personal assistant, credit mentions and all. (DONE)
1. To Memorize Bagel Toppings Is Laborous

"Let's see.cream cheese with vanilla icing on the edge? And your mocha, of course." "Perfect, sweetheart. Want a sip? I've got a scene to film." "I tried to hurry." "It's not your fault I have a job. Here, have a sip. It's a decent reward for you running valiantly across the lot without spilling any of my precious mocha on yourself." She smiled. She loved his voice. When she turned, holding his drink as she would diamonds, Emma Watson saw the back of her black tank top: "Crew Assistant". "Amanda!" She turned. "Oh, hey, Emma." "Can I have a sip? It's too early. I'm beat already and it's not even ten." She shook her head, smiling coyly. "Sorry. It's for Alan only." "You're not Alan." "So? He's gracious. I didn't ask for much pay." "Of course not. Hey, stop being a Slytherin, eh?" "Where's your assistant?" "Shopping." "Tsk, tsk. You should lower her mocha intake." "Oh, she doesn't get any. Of course, neither do I." "Amanda! I said a sip!" "Oh, God, Alan, you scared me again." She grinned sheepishly. "So sorry." "Nah, just pulling your chain." "And she falls so well for it, too." Amanda shot Emma a dangerous glare, but Alan chuckled. "Gryffindor scene, you little mudblood." Tom yelled from the back of the set, trying out his part. "Coming." And finally she alone could share his airspace. 


	2. Letter to the Rickmaniacs

WARNING: SPOILER!  
  
The next day on the set Alan informed Amanda that soon they'd be heading to Dublin to film Eliza's Daughter, a sequel to Sense and Sensibility that Joan Aiken had written. "I mean, I know I'm supposed to die in this one, but really, I just want to see Ireland." She nodded. "Yeah, I've heard they've got the greenest hills in the world." Tom walked over and pinched her shoulder blade playfully. "That's because of all the clover." She smiled. "Right. I'm still not getting you coffee." At this Alan had to smile. "You should have been a secretary, hon." "Nuh- uh. Not this girl. After what my mother told me?" She clicked her tongue mockingly. Tom grinned. "Understandably." He looked at his watch. "Uh-oh, I was supposed to start filming the Shrieking Shack scene at five after! Great, time to get splattered across the face by mud courtesy of Dan and Rupert." Amanda laughed. "Boy, am I glad I'm just the assistant. I get mentioned in the credits and everything." "That's because you're so good at it." Alan said quietly for her ears only, and she looked embarrassed. "Well." But he'd already gone to talk to some extras, probably signing autographs.  
  
She looked at her own watch and sighed. Might as well write that letter to the Rickmaniacs. As she stole a quill from one of the set guys walking by (and dipped it in the bottle of silver nail polish she kept in her jeans pocket to touch up on the go)she thought about how'd they reacted when she first got the job. Some furious, some ecstatic, some confused.but all crazy. It was like the best sorority in the world. Beer, parties and all- she chuckled. "Hello, all, especially Amanda, my best friend who is allowed to use my name when signing autographs on the red carpet beside Alan 20 years from now." She smiled to herself, not noticing Alan come up and read over her shoulder. "Life on the Azkaban set is hurried, but as always amazing. I'm the luckiest girl, Alan only asks for a few drinks and two bagels a day! He always seems to wait till we make our way (slowly) around to the staff table so I don't have to jog so far, through the crowd of costumes. The other day this little girl, she was like six, came up and asked for his autograph, and he made me sign it too. It was the sweetest thing." She still didn't feel him breathing down her neck, as she began a new paragraph.  
  
"Can you believe it? Dublin next week! He promises to give me down time to get you all souvenirs, and I bet you I can get him to sign them all." She suddenly turned around to scratch her shoulder blade (the one Tom pinched, yes) and her eyes met his. "Oh, hi." He half-smiled. "Keep going."  
  
So she did. "I miss you all so much. You guys would be so much better than me, I swear!" She waited for him to comment, but he refrained, so she continued. "He says hello, or at least he would if I asked him to, and I wonder how the weather is there. You know it always rains here. But today the Lord blessed us with cloudy skies, eh? Lucky, lucky, yes we are." She smiled. "So filming is so good, it's extended hours. Meaning I have to get back to my back-breaking bliss of delivering mochas to everyone's favorite. I promise to write you about the green hills when I get to Ireland. Adios! -Amanda." 


	3. Eliza's Daughter

Amanda spent the next few weeks with Alan in Dublin, meeting his co-stars Emma Thompson, Hugh Grant, and Kate Hudson. She spent quite a while exploring the house that was being used as his estate, Delaford, in the movie, and often found herself the only jeans-clad person on set. Once Emma and Kate showed her their dressing room, which was in fact complete with a wardrobe of several elegant dresses that could be worn per day, and she was even able to go shopping with them in the main street market of the city. She wrote another letter to the Rickmaniacs that night, telling them all about how Alan must be nearly as rich as his character at this point and how positively smashing he looked in black.  
  
Next she wrote to her parents in Virginia and her best friend, who still hadn't seen the light in her admiration of her only superior. She had described the wonderfully free life of a cast assistant to Jenny soon after she'd gotten the job, how she had basic run of the set and was basically only told what to do by Alan and the crew. She felt like an actress.  
  
Soon after this Colonel Brandon died and Alan told Amanda it was most regretfully time to pack up and head back to England. Not long ago the two of them had bought neighboring apartments in London and she had just finished decorating hers before they'd left. She was happy to see her teal walls in her four-room complex, and she found she had even missed the countless hair products and makeup she'd stashed in her bathroom. She chuckled as she'd entered the small kitchen, realizing she hadn't actually cooked in it yet. But alas, she was so tired after all this that she collapsed into her bed and fell fast asleep, not bothering to reach for the phone on her bedside table until the last minute.  
  
"Hello?" She said sleepily. "Hey, it's me.you settled in okay?" She smiled. "Yeah, Alan, I'm fine. You haven't got to worry about me, I'm twenty-four." He nodded on the other end, sitting at his kitchen table in an old T-shirt and Levi's. "I know. You told me you were never homecoming queen or president of Alpha Delta Omega. So I didn't figure you were at a total loss without your daddy's credit card and mommy's shampoo." She giggled, and his smile broadened. "Besides, who says only girls can call their best friends at midnight to check up on them when they miss them too much?" She made a mock move to hang up on him, then put the receiver back to her lips. "I'm really tired." "I can tell, so I'll let you go to bed. Not a bad idea, really, I'm starting to get those dreaded under-eye circles you always warn me about." But she was already asleep. 


	4. Dinner Over Coffee

The next morning Amanda woke up sometime around ten o' clock and poured herself a cup of hot tea, sitting at her kitchen table in her Paul Frank pajamas to drink it. Finally she got bored and decided to wake him up-the very thought made her smile.  
  
In the apartment next door, his cell phone rang on his bedside table. "Uh, hello?" "Wake up, sleeping beauty." His eyes brightened as her voice came over the receiving line. "You're up early." He cracked a rare smile as he spoke. "It's Saturday. It's your only day off." "It's also my shopping day." Amanda could almost see him roll his eyes.  
  
"Well, what do you say I meet you for Starbucks at the corner of Clover and Castle at noon?" She nodded and smiled. "Sure thing." "I'll buy your mocha this time." "Thanks." She hung up and grabbed her purse, heading to her bedroom to change, not forgetting to hit the stereo and start up her workout tunes as she made her way to the door.  
  
A little while later Amanda emerged from the complex and waltzed gracefully down the stairs onto the street, wearing a T-shirt she'd made at a Rickmaniac Society meeting. It was a black halter that she cut off at her belly (she'd worked hard for that washboard!) and had the "Die Hard" cover image on it, except she'd rhinestoned the straps and the title like a Hollywood billboard. She loved Bruce, too, but she had a soft spot for villians. Somewhere under her bed she found her favorite Paris Blues a week too late and had decided before the trip that the instant she got home she'd break in her new blue Chucks.  
  
She bought herself a smoothie early on and sipped it as she window-shopped, looking proudly at the homemade belly piercing she'd done with a ruby teardrop earring last month. The bruise was beginning to heal, and it was so much better than-what was that American blonde git's name again? She played with the many earrings in both ears, up and down the cartilage, as she strolled calmly along the stores. Many of the English skater punks, teenagers probably still in senior year, stopped to look her over but she went against her better judgement of having them mistake her grin for faraway affection and refused to hide her delight. It was almost time to meet Alan.  
  
Finally she saw him in the coffee shop across the street from her favorite antique store and tried to look bored as she made her way across the street. "Hey." She said calmly as she set her purse down next to him and slid into the booth. "So what have you wasted your morning on? I see no baggage." He gestured at the purse. "Not much game." She said, ordering a café latte and slurping the last of her cherry smoothie. He nodded, as if he understood. "Ok then.listen, err, I wanted to tell you.you remember Tom Felton, the actor who plays Draco Malfoy in the film?" She nodded, watching him curiously, and put down her cup. "He asked me to see if you'd like to join him for dinner tonight. He doesn't live far from us, and he says he could use a little help with the cooking and perhaps the dishes. I told him you weren't the type to be finicky about getting your hands dirty, and perhaps you'd take him up on it?" "Well, yeah, I mean, sounds great." She said, smiling. Tom had been very sweet to her of late. "I can't wait to see him." 


	5. Sushi and McDonald's

Amanda wasn't planning on changing for dinner with Tom, but Alan convinced her to wear the lilac dress she'd seen while window shopping on the way home. She got home and tried in on, and when satisfied with the cut she dug out her never-worn black heels to go with it. Most of her wardrobe was black, except for her various punk rock concert tees and sarcastic slogan novelty shirts.  
  
She pulled her brown hair back in a black jaw-clip and put in her contacts, barely beating the ringing of her doorbell. When she opened the door there stood Tom, wearing his nicest outfit-a dark blue plaid shirt and khakis. Oh well, she'd never preferred too-Hollywood boys in penguin suits. Maybe this was just another clause in the big Book of First Date Rules for Men.  
  
He immediately complimented her on her own ensemble. Perhaps Alan isn't completely clueless about teenage life, she thought to herself, knowing he wasn't smart enough yet to figure out how to decode her pleased smile.  
  
They walked down the street to the bus stop and she dared to ask him where he lived. "Well, um, I rented a house with Daniel and Rupert for the filming here. Why, did you buy your apartment?" She nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I just got out of college, so it was the cheapest in petite London I could get. Besides, Alan would rather have me close, so it was pretty convenient." He took this in. "Cool-so you guys are really good friends, then?" "Yeah.I've only worked for him for a year now, don't get me wrong, but it's hard not to get along with him. He's quite the sweet gentleman." Tom laughed. "People never do seem to get that out of Professor Snape." Amanda had to laugh at this. So far this wasn't torture-and she had to admit, Tom was cute.  
  
"So, what do you like?" Tom asked as he opened the door to his humble abode a few blocks later. She looked around. "Where're Rupert and Dan?" He shook his head. "I got them to scram for tonight. They're out clubbing." Amanda laughed again, and certainly not for the second time. "Daniel? Rupert? Clubbing? What, do they think they're just going to go pick up girls?" Tom chuckled. "They have minds of their own." "Yeah, they do." She said softly. Wait, they'd gotten way off subject. "Err, um, do you like Chinese?" "I thought Alan said you could cook." "He lied." "He's good about that." Both of them smiled.  
  
A few minutes later they were laughing again, this time over sushi and McDonalds (Tom had decided he wasn't exactly feeling adventurous, which he'd also used to explain his outfit to her, although she didn't ask). The dinner was different, yes, but it was the most laughs she'd had since college. She sneered inside: if only her ADO girls could see her now. 


	6. The Red Dress

When Amanda got back to her apartment late that night, she wasn't surprised to see the little blue light on her answering machine blinking feverishly. She pushed the button and listened to her favorite voice.  
  
"Hey, Amanda, honey, it's me.so, pretend I'm one of your crazed Rickmaniac friends and tell me all about your date with Tom. He got you flowers, right?" She grinned and bit her lip as she listened. "Anyway, dearest, I still expect you on my doorstep at eight o' clock sharp tomorrow morning- haha, funny, not eight at night, don't you dare-no matter what time it is. Speaking of-talking to you rarely makes me tired and/or bored, but now it appears to the innocent bystander that I am talking to myself, so farewell." She laughed to herself as she looked at the digital clock on her Mr. Coffee: it was almost eleven. Yep, Alan once again had the best idea at this point.  
  
The next morning she rose at around seven-thirty and struggled out of bed, pulling on her worn-out Express jeans and vintage Good Charlotte concert tee with an exasperated, I-don't-have-time-for-time yawn. She closed the door on her unmade bed and clothes-littered bedroom, barely stopping to run a brush through her thick, longish brown hair. As she briskly jogged up and around the wooden staircase to Alan's quarters she took in the bright blue sky and the crisp eight o' clock air.  
  
He opened the door, also yawning, and took her in very slowly.  
  
"Morning."  
  
"Don't remind me."  
  
He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, and she remembered he was getting old. It made her very sad and she tried to smile for him.  
  
"Well, get in here, then."  
  
She followed him back inside-his apartment was loads cleaner than hers-and closed the door behind them both. Today he wore a gray Ramones t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans with his oldest pair of Nikes. She sat down on his couch and he took the place next to her, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
"So, what about the date? You got my message, right?"  
  
She nodded again. "It was nice."  
  
"He didn't get you anything, then.what did he wear?"  
  
"A blue plaid shirt and a pair of khaki pants."  
  
"Plaid-tsk, tsk."  
  
She smiled weakly at his attempt at an early-morning wisecrack.  
  
"So we've got this premiere in Paris next week."  
  
"Premiere?"  
  
"Yeah. You know.Eliza's Daughter."  
  
"Oh, right. You wearing the usual?"  
  
"Yeah.no penguin, but I'll do the suit thing."  
  
She smiled again. He was always at his most casual, as she was.  
  
"I got you another dress while you were getting ready yesterday."  
  
"Let me see it." She was genuinely interested this time-Alan had great taste.  
  
"OK. Hang on a sec." He stood up and headed down the hall to the closet in his room, and returned a moment later carrying a gorgeous red dress. It was a halter-she liked halters-with a deep v-neck and went almost to the floor.  
  
"You can wear this with those cork platforms, right?"  
  
"Yeah-wow. Thanks."  
  
"No problem, sweetie." His voice cracked. He was like a father to her. 


	7. Dancing With Myself

Amanda stepped first out of the limo, thanking the sweet musclehead who drove Alan's limo most of the time. Alan whispered to her that the paparazzi would be stalking them, just like everyone else, while they made their stroll down the red carpet, so he had come up with a plan to drive them all crazy, one she most certainly didn't object to.  
  
Alan's plan was basically for Amanda to walk down the red carpet on his arm, looking extra cheerful and pretending she was a really famous model or something. The press would think he had a really young girlfriend at last and it would cover the tabloids the next morning, for sure. She found this really interesting-she couldn't wait for the faces.  
  
So here she was, Alan squeezing my hand briefly as we embraced the Hollywood crowd, stepping out of his limo. The last thing she needed was support and encouragement. Naturally, when that awkward rare complete state of silence descended over the carpet folk, the first thing she heard was a loud whistle rip through the chilly night air. She whirled (along with everyone else) and caught Tom leaning over the fence in the press pit. Daniel, Rupert, Sean, and several other young Harry Potter actors were with him. He broke into a grin and she blushed, hard. Would the tabloids spell "cheater" now for her?  
  
She felt Alan's breath softly in her ear again, brushing her earring. "You going to meet him for the afterparty?"  
  
"Which one?" She giggled.  
  
"Oh, well.we have options.let's see.."  
  
"Are the hobbits throwing one again this year?"  
  
"Yes, in the Grand Hall down the street. Some new club."  
  
"You coming?"  
  
"Nah.I'm going to go get some coffee, get my new lines."  
  
"Ok, then. If you see him soon tell him I like him a little."  
  
Alan smirked and looked back up ahead of them. "Just don't trip."  
  
A few hours later Amanda was pouring herself a glass of wine, the first one she'd had in a while, surrounded by her various admirers. She looked around at all of them, laughing at dirty American jokes and sipping various beers, and realized just how odd it was to see them all so out of costume and out of character (well, except the Weasley twins)  
  
Amanda had just got done dancing with Elijah Wood, one of her best friends since she'd started working for Alan, and had promised Billy Boyd the last dance of the night. She almost didn't expect to feel Tom tap on her shoulder, just beating Daniel by a moment. "I like this song. Brian McKnight, isn't it? You want to dance with me?"  
  
It was indeed Brian McKnight, except she had no idea what it was called yet. "Sure thing."  
  
He nodded meekly and led her out onto the dance floor, amidst Elijah and one of his tearful fans. Tom held her close to him as they danced, breathing in her Pantene.  
  
"So what's it like working for Dr. Evil?"  
  
Paige laughed, breaking the mood a little. "He's not that cruel. I mean, I at least get meals."  
  
This made Tom laugh louder. "Anyway, I like the lyrics to this song."  
  
"Yeah, me too."  
  
"Who do you think he wrote it for?"  
  
"I don't know. Brian McKnight is just naturally a romantic soul."  
  
"Now that was poetry."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
One You're like a dream come true Two Just wanna be with you Three Girl it's plain to see That you're the only one for me and Four Repeat steps one through three Five Could make you fall in love with me If ever I believe my work is done Then I'll start back at one..yeah yeah yeah 


	8. Kissing Practice

The following Sunday evening found Amanda at Alan's apartment, drinking lemonade and watching Die Hard With A Vengeance. She looked up as he entered, looking much more comfortable in a dark gray button-down and black slacks. He smiled darkly at her, sitting down on the end of his bed next to her. "So?"  
  
"So."  
  
He yawned. "You, um.want to practice?"  
  
"Have you gotten any information on the scene yet?"  
  
"Nope. I just have to kiss the woman. I don't know how."  
  
"I meant when."  
  
"Oh, well.no."  
  
"It's almost the end of production."  
  
"Tell that to my producers."  
  
She smiled. "Whatever. But yeah, sure. I don't mind."  
  
This widened his smile. With that Alan took his cue and tuned out the sound of Bruce Willis's voice, pressing his lips very gently to hers. It was a familiar taste and feeling, being as they practiced his scene quite often. He was shocked that a girl of her age and appearance would like to.  
  
"Wait." She paused him. "Is this supposed to be regular or French?"  
  
"Well, it is set in Paris, I think. Or something like that."  
  
"You don't sound French."  
  
"Whatever." He imitated her carelessness.  
  
Amanda then placed her lips delicately on his once more, letting him choose his favorite moment. At that point, which came soon, he gently opened her lips with his tongue and played a little cat-and-mouse with hers. She found she enjoyed the feeling. She wished Tom would do this for her.  
  
Tom?  
  
"What about your little boy toy?" Alan paused again.  
  
"I have an idea."  
  
She pulled a pen out of her purse and a stray Post-It note. "Here. Write 'practice scenes with professional at professional's discretion' and I'll stick it on my contract when I get back home."  
  
Now he felt stupid. "Wow, nice thinking." He did as she asked.  
  
She flopped back on the bed and he embraced her, continuing, as gunshots from the TV rambled in the great distance, ignored by both. She smiled blissfully, knowing she'd never get home. Instead she felt certain she'd rather wake up in his arms-fully clothed-a couple hours too late. 


	9. Crashing Like A Tidal Wave

You know it only breaks my heart  
  
To see you standing in the dark  
  
Oh, waiting there for me  
  
To come back. . .  
  
Months had passed since the filming of "Love, Actually" and things were still bright for the young assistant and her man. Alan had acquainted her with Jason Issacs, who was delightfully funny, and she had grown a bit more serious with Tom.   
  
"I'm going to miss you." Alan said quietly, standing at the airport.  
  
"Me, too." Amanda was going home for Christmas to keep up with her friends.  
  
I'm too afraid to show. . .  
  
Jason and Tom had left earlier, after much hugging and kissing. But as always Alan stayed by Amanda's side, like a faithful old dog. He loved her so much, and she him, even more than her Rickmanista sisters could fathom.  
  
It's coming over you  
  
Like it's coming over me  
  
Crashing like a tidal wave  
  
That drags me out to sea. . .  
  
She felt tears welling up in her eyes. It's only a month, she reminded herself. And she'd call them every day; that's the very reason he'd bought her the blasted cell phone. She carried his picture in the silver locket she wore around her neck. It was pathetic.  
  
And I wanna be with you  
  
If you wanna be with me  
  
Crashing like a tidal wave  
  
Amanda threw her arms around Alan's neck and felt him pick her up gently. She giggled and could almost see a small smile caress his lined face. "Love you, sweetie." He whispered.  
  
And I don't wanna be stranded. . .  
  
But I can only take so much  
  
These tears are turning me to rust  
  
I know, you're waiting there for me  
  
To come back  
  
I'm too afraid to show  
  
Three or four kisses goodbye later she was on the plane, trying to read a copy of the script for his next movie, but she couldn't keep her mind off him. She wondered where he was, while she sat here alone. A sweet-looking British girl and her Scottish boyfriend came up the aisle. "Do you mind if we-" "No, please, go right ahead!" Amanda exclaimed. "Hate sitting alone." She smiled warmly as the two squeezed in beside her. "My gosh." The girl looked at her. "I've seen you on TV-you're..." "A actor's assistant. Alan Rickman, right." "Rickman, of course. He's fabulous." "You have no idea." She whispered.  
  
It's coming over you  
  
Like it's coming over me  
  
Crashing like a tidal wave  
  
That drags me out to sea  
  
And I wanna be with you  
  
If you wanna be with me  
  
Crashing like a tidal wave  
  
But I don't wanna be. . .stranded  
  
Alan looked at his wallet as he walked down the cobblestone back-alley in a corner of London, studying the picture tucked inside. It was Amanda's college photo, where she had her hair longer and straighter, but her hazel eyes sparkled like always, even when she was sad she couldn't hide it. She was fooling around with two of her Rickmaniac friends, who had taken a candid shot of her waving two silver-black-green pom-poms and wearing a Die Hard t-shirt and a pair of jeans. She was laughing as she pretended to be stuck-up and snobby, like Tom's character would be. Alan smiled at the photo, but inside he was crying.  
  
I miss you  
  
I need you  
  
Without you   
  
I'm stronger  
  
I love you  
  
So come back  
  
I'm not afraid to show  
  
He broke into a run and rushed home, picking up the phone as he opened the door. "Hey." Everyone on the plane craned their necks to see who had the cell phone with the Blink-182 ringtone.  
  
It's coming over you  
  
Like it's coming over me  
  
Crashing like a tidal wave  
  
That drags me out to sea  
  
And I wanna be with you  
  
If you wanna be with me  
  
Crashing like a tidal wave. . .  
  
And I don't wanna be stranded  
  
~Plumb "Stranded"~ 


End file.
